


COMPANION

by thoughtful_constellations



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Torchwood
Genre: Angst, Humour, M/M, Not A Fix-It, au where ianto gets into shenanigans with the doctor and they solve an Alien Crime together, canon divergence (towards the end), presumes familiarity with Children of Earth & Countrycide & Greeks Bearing Gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtful_constellations/pseuds/thoughtful_constellations
Summary: In which Ianto becomes a Companion for a day, and the tenth Doctor takes a more prominent role in the events of Children of Earth.“A...sonic screwdriver,” he said gravely, the alliteration rolling off of his tongue.“Exactly! You're very good, Mr. Jones.” Ianto would have suspected him of mockery, but his tone was so genuine he couldn't help the small smile that formed on his face.





	1. Psychic Paper

Ianto Jones carried out his daily routine methodically, making coffee in the morning, tidying up after lunch, and staying out of the way as the team rushed about grabbing their gear and disappearing out of the door to solve the latest crisis: an outbreak of some strange virus that was carried over the rift by some poor alien that probably got lost on his way home. He navigated for them over the comms, perched with perfect posture in front of the computer in Jack’s office (he was the only one Jack liked sitting in his chair, and he did so as often as he got a chance. It made him feel important). 

Luckily, they quarantined everyone quickly and effectively, although Owen was covered in a large amount of substance by a growth on one of the victims--something he was understandably agitated over when the team returned. Ianto made sure to have a clean towel waiting for him.

Ten hours later, he was in the middle of filing reports, his eyes starting to dry out from staring for so long at sets of alphabetical lists and the descriptions, events, uses (some of them very disturbing), and origins of objects they’d acquired over the past six months. 

“Ianto, you mind taking a look at this?” Jack waved him over from the other side of the Hub, where he stood at Toshiko’s monitor. Ianto dropped what he was doing--the filing could wait, he supposed, as his work always did when the team had more ‘important’ jobs in mind for him (as if organization wasn’t vital to the upkeep of this place)--and stepped over to see what they had up on the screen.

Tosh pointed to the tangle of lines and arrows on the screen, a map of the roadways around Cardiff. In the corner of the screen, a blue section was blinking rhythmically. “We’re detecting a very small spike of energy on this freeway,” she tapped the dot, zooming in to show a geographical view of the area, “It doesn’t seem like anything important; Jack thinks it might be a small piece of tech like a chip, or a transmitter. I checked the police reports for any mention of strange activity in this area, and there seems to have been a car crash about…” She checked her watch. “Twelve minutes ago.”

Jack interjected, “We need you to go check it out, take a scanner and look for any weird electronics in the crash, then report back. Think you can handle it?” He flashed a grin at Ianto.

Ianto nodded. “Shouldn’t be a problem, sir.” 

For a moment he wondered why Jack was sending him, but he remembered that everyone had their own projects going on tonight. Owen, zipping around the alien body on the operating table in the autopsy room, was working on a time-sensitive antidote for the virus. He supposed Tosh would be running tests for him. Jack, who’d been in his office since they got back, was fiddling with the technology they’d picked up off the host of the virus, and Gwen was nowhere to be seen; she had the evening off.

“Great,” Jack said, “Tosh will forward the coordinates to the GPS.” He clapped a hand on Ianto’s shoulder, lingering there longer than Ianto felt was normal for a friendly gesture, before turning away to get back to work.

And so, Ianto found himself speeding through the streets of Cardiff at 12 o’clock at night, a quickly-made coffee in one hand, with nothing but the faint glow of the SUV’s navigational systems to keep him company. It was a relief, he supposed, that Jack trusted him enough to carry out a mission on his own. Even if it was small. 

He reached the scene of the accident quickly; the police department tended to look the other way when the Torchwood vehicle came speeding down the streets, a fair number over the speed limit, and the team couldn’t deny that they took advantage of that as often as they could.

Ianto pulled into place on the side of the road behind the flashing blue lights of a local police car, stepping out and pushing the sleek black door shut. He approached the line of tape blocking off the steaming wreck of a beige car planted head-on into the metal siding of the freeway; looking around, he only spotted two officers. He’d beaten the paramedics. Not surprising. 

Ianto stepped up to the officers, a man and a woman, who were standing a couple of feet from the car. The woman was scribbling a report onto a small notepad, using the front of their car as support. The other stood surveying the wreck, as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

He flashed his ID when they noticed him. “Torchwood,” he said, feeling a rush of importance that never really went away when he got a chance to introduce himself with that name. They watched him pull a scanner out of his coat, fiddling with the knobs on the end. Tosh was brilliant, and this technology was nothing short of inventive. It chirped to life, flashing different options onto the small screen. He initiated the scan for energy spikes and stepped around the wreckage, holding it out methodically. He noticed that the front end of the car had been torn open completely, throwing the driver out onto the street

As he bent near a tire, a voice startled him half to death.

“I think you’ll find that that funny little signal you’re getting is coming from over there.” 

A man with wildly spiked hair and a brown pinstripe suit stood behind him, pointing in the direction of where the driver’s seat would normally be. He held a long, silver device in his left hand, and he was regarding Ianto with an air of amusement.

Ianto straightened, frowning at him. “Who are you? This is a police zone only.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about me,” the man said, rummaging in his coat pocket and holding out a small black notebook, which displayed a blank, rectangular piece of paper. “I’ve got a...permit.” There was an undertone of smugness to his words.

Ianto stared him in the eye, wholly unimpressed.

“Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?” He said, crossing his arms.

The man gaped at him, turning the paper around to look at it in disbelief, then back at him. A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “Well! Look at that,” he quirked a lip. “You must be very clever, then. What’s your name?”

“I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be asking me that, when you still haven’t answered it yourself.” Honestly, people these days... Probably some crackpot vigilante who listened in on police radio channels and followed them around, trying to be “useful.”

“Ah yes, sorry about that.” He pocketed the notebook. “I’m the Doctor.” 

Ianto’s breath caught, and he felt a pang of something indescribable in his chest. He figured it was close to jealousy, remembering the giddy smile on Jack’s face the day he’d finally come back. All the time he’d spent wondering how great this Doctor really was for Jack to drop everything and just leave them all like that. Ianto steeled himself. _He came back for me_ , he thought, _don’t be so petty._

“Jones. Ianto Jones. I’m with Torchwood.” He gauged the Doctor’s reaction, wondering if he would ask about Jack. If his eyes would light up to match the look Jack held when he spoke of this man. 

He didn’t expect the Doctor’s face to freeze, staring at him with an unreadable expression for a long few moments before blinking and offering his hand. A smile pushed its way onto his face. “So this is the man that’s got the immortal Captain Jack Harkness running around like a schoolboy with a crush, is it?” He shook his head, grinning. “I’ve never seen him make the face he does when he’s talking about you. Nice catch.” He winked.

Ianto shook his hand, dazed. All the times he’d envisioned what an encounter with the Doctor would be like, he’d never imagined him saying that. “I...it isn’t...thank you?” He stumbled, gracelessly. 

The Doctor gave him a knowing look, but Ianto was at a loss for what it meant.

“Why are you here…? This isn’t exactly a catastrophe, I mean, it’s so small that they only sent _me_ to check into it.” 

“Well, Ianto Jones,” the Doctor said, gesturing for him to follow to the front of the car, “Sometimes there’s more to a story than is immediately apparent. Look over at the driver and tell me what you see.”

Ianto furrowed his eyebrows, glancing warily at the corpse lying on the road. The poor man was face down in the concrete. “I don’t… He looks normal to me. Apart from being, well, dead.” 

“Don’t you think his lack of blood is a bit strange?” 

Ianto stared. “Oh my god…” He muttered. “You’re right.” 

There was definitely some blood leaking out of the man’s smashed-in head, but not nearly enough for a wound so large. It was as though someone had drained it from him, leaving only enough to keep him hanging on. 

He held the scanner out, crouching and waving it along the length of the man’s body. It began to beep, getting louder the nearer he got to the man’s head. Text appeared at the bottom of the screen. “LOCK ON,” it read. He pressed it, and a scan of the man’s brain flashed onto the device, rotating slowly in place. A small red dot stood out against the pathways of the man’s nerves. 

“He’s...Is this man an _android_?” He forced himself not to acknowledge the memories that word carried. They sat in the back of his mind, and thinking about them would only make this job harder than it needed to be. 

The Doctor looked down at the metal object in his hand, turning it over as though he was reading off of it (though Ianto definitely didn't see any words written along the device). “Oh, definitely not. He’s just got a great big chip in his brain. For some reason. Who d’you think did that?” 

“But where is it transmitting to?” 

The Doctor held a hand out, gesturing to the scanner. “May I…?” 

Ianto gave him a suspicious once-over, but handed it to him. The Doctor pressed a button on the side of his device and it lit up blue at the tip, emitting a piercing sound. The scanner came alive with screens Ianto had never even seen before. He shifted disgruntledly. 

“If I can just link the signal from this bloke’s brain and your scanner with my screwdriver here, maybe I can triangulate the source…”

“I'm sorry, did you say _screwdriver_?” Ianto knew what a screwdriver was, and this looked more like something Jack would be keeping under his bed than something you'd use to replace a battery.

“Hm? Oh yes,” he said, tapping it on the edge of the scanner. “A sonic one.” He grinned. 

“A...sonic screwdriver,” he said gravely, the alliteration rolling off of his tongue.

“Exactly! You're very good, Mr. Jones.” Ianto would have suspected him of mockery, but his tone was so genuine he couldn't help the small smile that formed on his face. 

“Only name for it as long as it's making that godawful noise,” he said jokingly. 

“I rather like it--aha! There it is,” he said. “Now, where's the map feature on this thing…” 

“Hit the knob on the left.” 

“Lovely.” He did so, studying the map. His face lit up, and he looked at Ianto. “Fancy a pizza?”

Just then, a loud fizzing noise filled the air. The body in front of them began to dissolve, bubbles and ripples appearing on the skin and shrinking until there was nothing left of the corpse that had been there a few seconds ago. 

Ianto gaped at it, eyebrows widening in horror. “Oh my god, what just…”

The Doctor frowned down at it. “Now that's unfortunate.”

“They must be destroying the evidence.”

“What do you mean, ‘they?’”

Ianto shrugged. “There's always some Big, Bad Alien responsible for these things,” he said.

“We better get moving, then.”

“I--what do you mean?” 

“Dylan’s Pizzeria,” the Doctor said. “That's where it's coming from.”

“ _Dylan’s Pizzeria?_ ” He laughed, “What an inconspicuous name! Is their slogan, ‘Zero Accounts of Alien Activity Since 1999?’”

“All the more reason to check it out.”

Ianto considered that. “I'll have to check in with Jack, he might not appreciate me running off to investigate without backup.” 

“You've got me as backup!”

“You're coming…? What do you have to do with this?”

“Jack has a tendency to get unnecessarily violent when there are better ways of working around a problem. Anyways,” he continued in a hushed voice, “I don't do the whole gun thing.”

“Yeah, well I do. This is a Torchwood investigation, and you don't have the jurisdiction to--”

“I can see it in your eyes, Ianto Jones. You're not a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of person. You've got a sense of compassion.” 

Ianto wasn't sure how to reply to that. He knew how to use a gun with precision, how to shoot to kill...but the Doctor was right. Jack was the antihero in his own story, pitting his blurred morality against every perceived threat towards the peace of the ignorant, normal lives of the rest of the world. Ianto knew that despite all of that, at his core, Jack was good. No matter how much he hid the effects his past had on him.

However, Jack’s lack of hesitation often scared him. His memory flashed to Mary, the coldness in Jack’s eyes as he sent her into the Sun with no chance for retribution. To Tosh, telling him about the child Jack sacrificed to the faeries. To Lisa. 

“I'm not asking you to go against your orders. I'm asking you to come with me. It'll be fun,” the Doctor had a twinkle in his eye, and Ianto was beginning to get an inkling of why Jack liked him so much. 

He let out a long sigh. Jack was going to kill him for this.

“Alright. Fine. But I'm ringing Jack at the first sign of real danger.”

The Doctor beamed, satisfaction in his expression. He began to walk opposite where Ianto had parked the SUV. “Let’s be off, then!”

“Ah, Doctor, I have got a car…” He called, pointing behind him. 

The Doctor turned, fixing Ianto with a look he'd never forget. “I think you're going to like mine better.”


	2. Pizza

“Bloody hell. You actually managed to force one plane of space into another, smaller one. Just like they said.”

Ianto stood in the doorway of the oddest spaceship he'd ever seen, real or fictional. He'd heard people talking about this at Torchwood One. About Yvonne capturing man with a box that could take you anyplace, anytime. As amazing as it sounded, he hadn't gotten much of a chance to ponder over it that day. Not with the attack. He ran his fingers along the railing as he stepped in. So this was the box that carried Jack to the end of the universe…

“That's not the response I usually get,” the Doctor said, messing with some buttons on what looked to be a very advanced dashboard. 

“What response do you usually get?” 

The Doctor mimed surprise, “‘It’s bigger on the inside!’”

Ianto snorted a laugh. “Bet Jack has a field day with that one.” 

He dropped into a chair that sat a ways back from the control panels, wondering why there weren't any seat belts. 

“You’re going to want to stay standing, it’s, er, easier to brace yourself.” 

“But this is a high-tech ship, why would I need to--AUGH!” Ianto faceplanted into the console as the Doctor slammed a lever down and the whole ship jolted. “ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, shaking his head and holding onto the panels for dear life. There was a loud whirring noise, like the sound a car makes when you don’t use the clutch properly, and they jerked to a stop. 

“Here we are!” The Doctor said, springing over to the doors, completely unphased. Ianto closed his eyes for a few seconds, willing his balance back. He followed after slowly.

“ _Lovely_ ,” he muttered sarcastically.

They stepped out onto a dark street, lined with tiny shops that were mostly closed. There was a run down building in front of them, the lights glaring out of the window into the night. “DYLAN’S PIZ ERIA,” read the fluorescent green light hanging above a stripy, wind-blown awning.

“Wow,” Ianto said. “They spend a hell of a lot more on their brain chips than they do on the upkeep.”

“No kidding. Let’s go say hello.” He was pushing his way in before Ianto even got a chance to open his mouth and warm him about staying undercover. So much for stealth. He rolled his eyes and followed the man in. 

A bell tinged as the door opened. Ianto guessed it was supposed to sound welcoming, but the way it echoed around the shop made him uneasy.

There was a simple counter in the back, clean enough but definitely the worse for wear. No one was behind it. Ianto could smell pizza baking; there was another scent in the air, something familiar, but not enough that he could identify it mixed in with the bread smell. 

The Doctor elbowed him, discreetly throwing his chin towards the corner of the shop. A man sat there, back to the windows, scarfing down a slice of pizza. There was something off about him, but Ianto couldn’t quite place it. The shape of his head, maybe…?

He glanced at his watch. _Who the hell comes for pizza at one a.m.? And what kind of pizza place is open making them?_ He tried communicating some of these feelings to the Doctor with a look, eyebrows raised, not wanting to say anything impolite out loud that might cause the fellow in the corner to take offense. 

The Doctor shrugged, waltzing up to the counter and leaning against it. “Hello? Anyone back there?”

A minute later, they heard a heavy door slam shut in the back. From around the corner came an unusually tall woman, her dark hair tied tightly in the back of her head. The uniform she wore didn't fit very well; it hung loose around her long, thin arms. A badge on her uniform read “JOHANNA.”

“Can I help you,” she said in a tone that implied she wanted to do anything but that. 

“I'd like two pizzas,” the Doctor answered, staring at her unblinkingly. 

“The kitchen is closed for the night. You'll have to come back some other time.” Her face was expressionless. 

“Is that what you told that man in the corner?”

“He got the last batch.”

The Doctor nodded slowly. “I see. Can I speak to Dylan?”

She let out an annoyed breath that was more like a wheeze. “There's no Dylan here. That’s just the name of the shop.”

“Who’s in charge, then?”

“She's gone home. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Ianto could tell they weren't getting anywhere with this. 

He stepped up and gave her a warm smile. “That's all, thank you,” he said, pulling the Doctor away by the elbow and towards the door. He made no protest, and they stepped back out into the dark streets.

The Doctor turned to him. “You're thinking what I am, aren't you?”

“Yes. I’ll head back to base, get as much information on this area as I can, and then tomorrow we'll--”

“No, no, no. I've got something better,” he said in a hushed tone, looking left and right down the street.

Ianto looked at him unbelievingly. “Really.”

“C’mon,” the Doctor said, pulling his screwdriver out of his pocket. 

“That again?” He followed reluctantly to where the Doctor was climbing over a pile of discarded boxes, into the alleyway. Ianto stopped when he realized what he was doing.

“Oi, we can't just sneak in there without backup!” He hissed, looking to make sure the street was still clear. They couldn't go busting out locks in the middle of the night, when god knows what was behind the door. “I'm sorry, but I have to call Jack.”

The Doctor stopped, turning to face him. “Don't.”

“Why are you so insistent to keep Jack out of this?” He demanded. Jack talked about the Doctor as though he'd trust him with his life; it made no sense for the Doctor to keep him away from a mission. 

The Doctor sighed. “I’ve...lost a piece of technology. I had it out, fiddling with it in a cafe. Put it down for two seconds, and bam! It’s gone. Some fellow ran off with it. I’ve been tracking it for weeks, and I finally found a signal that matched the code of the ship I last saw it on.”

“The transmitter at the crash,” Ianto said.

“Yes.”

“What does this have to do with Jack?”

“If he got involved with the investigation, and he happened to find it before I did...I’m worried he’ll confiscate it when he recognizes what it is. He might take it without mentioning it to anyone. I wouldn’t blame him; in the wrong hands it could be very, very dangerous.”

“Are you implying that Jack is the ‘wrong hands?’ Wouldn’t he give it back if you asked?” 

“I’m not so sure he would,” The Doctor said, sounding uneasy. “He had something similar to it once, but he broke it. In fact,” he added quietly, “I had to deactivate it after he fixed it. For his own good. I think he’d be very eager to have it back if he found one again.”

Ianto considered this. Jack did have a tendency of deciding what he thought was best for everyone else and acting on it. If the Doctor hadn't kept an eye on such an important device, had let it be stolen--if it ended up costing lives... Jack might decide that it was dangerous and choose to assume control of it.

“What would happen if he took it? Jack’s not the sort to rampantly put people’s lives in danger.” He added under his breath, “Not counting us…”

The Doctor wouldn’t meet Ianto’s eyes. His voice was quiet when he spoke again, “Something is going to happen to Jack very soon that might drive him to use it. In fact, I’m almost certain that if he had a chance, he’d try anything to prevent it from happening. And I can’t allow him to do that.”

“Doctor,” Ianto stepped closer, trying to catch his eye, “what’s going to happen to him? Is he going to get hurt?” 

“I can’t tell you that. It might disrupt the order of events. He’ll be fine, in the end. After everything.” There was a sad look in his eye. 

Ianto frowned. “You’re asking me to lie to my boss, my...my friend. I tell him everything, I can’t just...Why won’t you tell me what this thing is? I have a right to know, if you’re going to ask this of me.” 

The Doctor studied him, as though he could gauge Ianto’s trustworthiness by looking at his face. Ianto tried to keep his expression composed, earnest--thought he wasn’t completely sure if he accomplished it. “It’s a vortex manipulator. Like the TARDIS, but smaller; not as much range.”

“But Jack’s a Time Agent. He knows about keeping the universe in order and all that.”

“The universe will mean nothing to him in the face of all that he’s going to lose.”

“But what is he going to--”

“Ianto,” said the Doctor, a sharp tone edging into his words. “Why do you do this job? To protect other people, right?”

“Of course.”

“Good intentions or not, if Jack gets ahold of this, it could mean the end of a lot of other people. A lot of other worlds. Time would unravel! Please, trust me on this. Jack is a good man--and friend--usually, but I can't bet the future of the universe on the off-chance that he might return the manipulator.”

Ianto furrowed his brows and nodded, resolving to take his word for it. He knew more about this than Ianto. After all, he was the one who brought down the Daleks and the Cyberman at Canary Wharf. 

Even if he’d taken too long to stop the invasion before Lisa was killed. 

“Okay. We keep Jack out of it for his own good. I can handle that.”

The Doctor gave him a small smile, though its purpose seemed to be to comfort Ianto, rather than to thank him. Which was the opposite of comforting. 

He brandished the screwdriver in front of him like a wand, and continued down the alley. Ianto was reminded of the Harry Potter books from his childhood, of a protagonist who continually shouldered burdens on his own, viewing every challenge as his personal duty to fix. 

The screwdriver’s electric whirring filled the small space, and Ianto saw the Doctor clutching the lock of an iron door, which seemed as though its frame had rusted into the brick wall. There was a metallic pop, and the lock snapped off; its handle crumbling into two pieces and dropping to the concrete.

Ianto pulled out his gun, readying himself for the door to open. 

“Agh, there’s no need for that,” the Doctor muttered incredulously, gesturing for him to put it away. 

Ianto looked at him disbelievingly. “You have no idea who’s on the other side,” he said blankly. “They’re likely armed.”

“So am I,” he wiggled the screwdriver in the air. 

Ianto just stared in bewilderment. It was hard to believe that this was the man who fought at Torchwood One. He lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it.

The Doctor pulled the door open slowly, a rusty groan filling the alley and echoing out into the street. Ianto winced, hoping that whoever was inside wouldn’t notice the commotion.

Ianto stepped through first, finding himself in a low-lit hallway with drab, cream-colored walls. The front of the store was behind a wall to his left, and there was an opening to his right that let out into a kitchen.

On the far end of the hallway was another iron door--newer, and with a rectangular panel where a doorknob should be. Security system.

Ianto inched his way past the entrance to the counter and front of the store, moving towards the iron door. The Doctor followed behind him. There was a door on the wall adjacent to it, and he heard muffled voices. He signaled to the Doctor to be quiet, and pressed his ear against it. 

“Need to restock soon….running out of….bring in the donors…” 

Donors? Not a word Ianto wanted to hear in a dining establishment. His stomach was sinking. 

The Doctor mimed for him to move over, pulling a stethoscope from somewhere in his coat. He pressed the shiny metal circle to the door and listened intently, his eyebrows lifting. 

That was when Ianto’s phone erupted into sound, trumpets from the James Bond theme blaring out and filling the corridor around them. His heart stopped and he struggled to get it out; the Doctor pushed him towards the exit. “Go, go, go!” 

The door flung open, a woman with blonde hair staring them down. “Oi!” She bellowed. 

Ianto and the Doctor raced out of the door, sprinting down the cobbled street stones, past several shops into another alley. He finally managed to pull his phone out of his pocket (not an easy feat while running for your life). They collapsed against a wall, and the Doctor peered around the corner. 

“I think we lost her,” he breathed.

Ianto’s phone was still going, and he opened it to shut it up. “Hello!” He said, in a tone that was very clearly in distress.

“Who is it?” The Doctor whispered loudly. Ianto shushed him.

 _“Ianto, it’s Jack.”_

Ianto mouthed his name to the Doctor.

_“Is everything alright? I didn’t realize you’d been gone so long until just now; some creature burst out of the body Owen was autopsying and, well, let’s just say the source of the virus was more aggressive than previously thought.”_

“Yeah,” he said breathlessly, “yes, everything’s great. It was just a...a…some weird watch the man driving the car must’ve picked up at a thrift store…or something..?” His story was weak, but Jack didn’t seem to notice.

_“Alright, well, if it isn’t dangerous just drop it off in the archives when you bring the car back and you can file it tomorrow. I don’t want you staying up so late just for a watch.”_

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He shut the phone before Jack said anything else, letting out a relieved breath.

“Nice save,” the Doctor said. 

“What were they talking about in there?” Ianto asked.

“Well, I’m absolutely certain they have the manipulator. They can’t figure out what it is, though, and I doubt they care to--they just want to make a profit.”

“Did you hear anything else? I heard them mention ‘donors…’”

“No, that’s all I heard, before, well--”

“Yeah,” Ianto interrupted, “I’m sorry.” He knew better than to keep his phone off silent during a stealth mission. At least Jack wasn’t here to see that.

“Don’t worry about it. Nice choice of ringtone.” He winked.

Flushing slightly, Ianto looked around the corner. “We should come back tomorrow. It’s too risky to go back right now. I’ll work on getting information on this area tonight on my laptop.”

“You’re right,” the Doctor said. “Let’s see if we can get back to the TARDIS without getting maimed.”

* * *

Ianto activated the door in the Hub, holding his breath. He didn’t hear any voices so he slipped in, making his way towards the archives. 

“Ianto!” He froze, nearly having a heart attack. Turning around slowly, he saw Tosh standing at her computer, packing up her purse. She had a blissful smile on her face.

“How'd it go?”

“Ah--good. Wasn't too much work. Almost easier than sticking around to make coffee,” he chuckled, trying not to sound nervous.

“I’m glad,” she said kindly as she swung her bag over her shoulder. Ianto noticed her sweater, the shade of lipstick she had on. 

“Going somewhere special?” He asked casually. 

“I have a date,” she said in a confident, hushed tone, as though she were sharing a secret with him. 

“Look at you,” he grinned, “is he nice?”

“She's a waitress; she gave me her number when she returned my credit card to me. It was certainly bold.” She adjusted her bag. “Thought I'd give it a try, you know?”

Ianto liked Tosh, and he was glad to see her moving on after Mary, who had been manipulative and selfish; whether Tosh thought so or not. It was difficult to realize the bad in someone when you were in love with them, Ianto understood that. Tosh was the most selfless person he knew--constantly giving to everyone she cared about, and she deserved someone who wouldn't take advantage of her. 

He also admired her confidence in her sexuality. She hadn't been ashamed of Mary, when she talked about her, had known she had no reason to be. Not that Ianto was ashamed of Jack; he just had a hard time defining their relationship. It was new territory for Ianto, and he was still figuring out what it meant for him. 

“Yeah,” he replied, “That's great, Tosh. I hope it goes well for you.”

“Thanks, Ianto. I'll see you later.”

He nodded to her as she stepped past him, and he watched her exit the Hub, waited for the door to slide into place. He glanced up at Jack's office. The doors were closed. 

Ianto stepped quickly down the steps to the archive and closed the door. If Jack happened to check the security tapes, he didn’t want him to question why he just walked in and out of the Hub without dropping anything off. He stood in the cold rooms for a good minute, running his hands along some boxes while he counted to 60 in his head. 

When he stepped back into the main room, a pair of arms slipped around his waist from behind. 

“Hello, Jack,” he said, voice going deep as Jack pressed his face into his neck.

“Ianto,” he replied, pressing a kiss there before spinning him around.

Ianto looked into his face, searching his eyes. Seeing Jack brought his mind back to the Doctor’s words. What was going to happen to Jack that was so terrible? What if it caused him to leave again?

Ianto put a hand on his cheek, trying to return the affectionate smile Jack was giving him. _Well,_ he thought, _it’s bound to happen eventually._

“Is everything alright?” Jack said, pulling him closer and resting his forehead against Ianto’s, their noses brushing.

“Yes,” Ianto said quietly, “just thinking too much.” 

Jack had had countless lovers, boyfriends, girlfriends. He didn’t stay with most of them for long. Ianto didn’t see why he’d be an exception; there wasn’t anything about him that Jack would have trouble finding again. 

But it wasn't himself he was concerned about, he was worried that Jack would get hurt. Fuck timelines. He’d try again to get an answer out of the Doctor when he saw him tomorrow.

“Do you need a distraction?” Jack murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his mouth. Warmth bloomed in Ianto’s face, and he was tempted to say yes. However, agreeing meant that Jack would end up spending the night with him, and he needed time to research and leave in the morning without Jack following him. 

Ianto kissed him back, keeping it soft. “I’m very tired, sweetheart,” he answered apologetically. “I’m gonna head home.” 

“You swear you’re okay?” Jack sounded concerned, and Ianto knew exactly why. He didn’t blame him, considering his actions in the past. It was a relief that Jack cared to ask.

“Yes. I’m fine. I promise.” He ran a hand through Jack’s hair and stepped away. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, moving towards the exit. 

“Try to get some sleep!” Jack called, disappearing up the stairs to his office.

“Will do, sir,” Ianto replied back. God, he wanted this to be over. He hated lying to Jack.


	3. Blood

“I’ve got loads of information here, it’s a wonder they didn’t slip up before now,” Ianto said, pacing around the interior of the TARDIS. It was parked in his living room, much to his displeasure. Thankfully, the Doctor hadn’t apparated on top of any of his very expensive furniture; he claimed it was his driving, but Ianto had a feeling it was just luck.

He was glad he’d refrained from having Jack over the night before. He cringed to think what it would have looked like to Jack to see the Doctor arriving out of nowhere to conspire with Ianto. Even more so, what the Doctor would have seen when he came barging into Ianto’s room--as he’d done this morning. Ianto had woken so abruptly he’d nearly tangled himself in the silk sheets and fallen out. 

“Let’s hear it,” the Doctor answered, sipping leisurely out of one of the cups of coffee Ianto had insisted on preparing for the two of them. Even in his own home, he couldn’t escape habit. 

“I checked for any strange activity in the vicinity of the pizzeria within the last four months: police reports, names of residents, medical history of those living in the area,” he set his laptop on the console and reached for his own coffee, “and I found a commonality between five of the tenants in the flats nearby.”

He pulled up a screen, displaying photos, names, and medical reports in a neat list. “Several people have reported signs of fatigue, weakness, fainting. All diagnosed as anemic, despite never showing signs of these symptoms until a few months ago. And here he is right along with them,” he said, enlarging a familiar face, “The victim of the crash.”

“Ah ha…” The Doctor said contemplatively. 

“Seems like there was also a missing persons report two weeks ago…‘Bell, Lucy.’ Her uncle said she went out for lunch and never came home,” he looked up at the Doctor, an eyebrow raised, “She still hasn’t been found.”

“I wonder if she met the same fate as our friend with the transmitter.”

Ianto nodded. “I think we should go investigate the people diagnosed with anemia. Ask them if anything weird happened to them before they started feeling weak. Doctors tend to miss details when checking out their patients. No offense,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up.

He laughed. “I’m not that kind of Doctor. Who are we dropping in on first?”

Ianto checked the name at the top of the list. “Tobias Hughes. Lives a couple buildings down from the shop.” He glanced at the Doctor. “Might be safer to land a ways off from where we did last night.”

“I agree. Okay then,” he pushed some buttons on the screens in front of him. “Ready?”

“Oh, hold on,” Ianto said, pulling his phone out. “I’m going to text Jack that I won’t be coming in today. Say I’m not feeling well.” He didn’t want to risk calling, in case he slipped up. He keyed out a message, pressing send and watching it go--perhaps longer than was normal for a guilt free conscience. 

“Okay. I’m ready.” 

* * *

The door was a bright turquoise, contrasting drastically with the drab exterior of the building. Whoever lived here must have been trying to combat the dismal atmosphere of the street, however unsuccessful they were. 

The Doctor hit the buzzer a couple times, bouncing on the heels of his shoes while they waited for an answer.

A woman with a long, curly hair came to the door. “Can I help you?” She said, eyeing them nervously. 

Ianto flashed his ID, putting a smile on. “DI Jones. This is my partner--”

“Smith.”

“We’re looking for Mr. Hughes?”

A distressed expression spread on her face. “Has he done something wrong?”

“Not at all, ma’am,” Ianto replied in a calm tone. “We just need to ask him some questions.”

She nodded and moved back, letting them step past her into a bright yellow hallway. “He's in the next room there, readin’ the paper.” 

Ianto turned the corner, stepping lightly into the den. He always felt out of place in the houses of strangers--should he have taken his shoes off? He supposed it would be a bit silly for a detective to question someone while in his socks. 

A man in a short-sleeved polo and khaki shorts was lounging on the red floral sofa that sat against the window of the small room. He had a wrinkled paper in one hand, and a mug in the other. Long curls of steam drifted up from it in ringlets and dispersed into the light from the window.

Ianto cleared his throat, and the man looked up, startled. “Who are you?” He asked, his voice weaker than expected.

“Are you Tobias Hughes?” The Doctor asked, situating himself on the edge of an easychair.

He squinted at them.“Who else would I be?” 

“We’re with the government. We need to ask you a couple of questions about your recently diagnosed anemia,” Ianto said, not wanting to waste time with small talk.

The man straightened up from his position; with some effort, Ianto noticed. “How do you know about my medical health?” He demanded. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”

“We have very high clearance,” the Doctor said, flashing him the blank piece of paper, which, unlike Ianto, the man regarded seriously. 

“Did you go anywhere on the day you started showing symptoms?” Ianto asked.

The man furrowed his brows. “I went out for lunch.” 

“Do you know where you went?” 

The man shook his head. “I went out for lunch, and that’s all I remember. Musta gotten hammered at the pub or something, next thing I knew I was home.”

Memory loss, then. If this man also had a chip in his brain...He’d left Tosh’s scanner in the SUV last night, so there was no way for him to check. 

The man lifted his mug to his face, taking a long gulp before setting it on the table next to him, exposing his forearm. Ianto saw a flash of something on the inside of his elbow.

“Sir, can I ask you to show me your arm?” He said, trying to sound polite.

“What for…” The man grumbled, sticking his arm out. On the inside of his elbow was a purple and blue patch, and in the middle of the bruise a dark pinprick that was barely noticeable amongst the discoloring. 

The Doctor pulled a pair of glasses out of his pocket and peered down at it. “Have you had any shots lately?” He asked.

The man shook his head.

“Then what’s that on your arm?”

The man shrugged. “Bruised it in my sleep, maybe.”

Ianto shared a glance with the Doctor, thinking back to the car crash. That man had obviously lost blood beforehand--what if someone had drawn Mr. Hughes’ blood as well? And without him being aware of it?

Ianto produced a card from the inside of his jacket, holding it out between two fingers. “This is our number. Call us if you experience any new symptoms.”

The Doctor followed him out of the flat, nodding to Mrs. Hughes on the way out. 

Ianto turned to him after the door was shut. “What do you make of that?”

“You said you overheard them mentioning ‘donors’ yesterday, didn't you?”

Ianto's stomach dropped. He knew where this was going. “Yes.”

“And that man there just happens to be exhibiting blood loss symptoms. With a mysterious needle prick in his arm.”

“We need to go question the next victi--patient on the list. If she has the same mark, we're going back to the pizzeria immediately.”

The next suspect lived only a few buildings away from Tobias Hughes. Her wife answered the door when they knocked, and they found her story to be almost identical to Tobias’ account. Ianto could see it in the Doctor’s face when she exhibited the mark with concern over its unknown whereabouts, and they finished the interview in a hurry, now feeling that it was urgent they get to the shop as soon as possible. 

Ianto left the apartment first, the Doctor stopping in the doorway to ask them one more thing, and he stopped cold when he saw who stood leaning against the rail that guarded the stoop. 

Jack looked up as his foot hit the first step down, cold confusion in his gaze. 

“Ianto. What are you doing out? I thought you were sick?”

“I'm...visiting with a friend,” Ianto said, trying to hide the Doctor from view and knowing it was too late. “Why are you here?”

“I came around to your house to, I don't know, make you breakfast or something, but you weren't there…” He trailed off, attention drawn by the closing of the door. “Who--”

The Doctor stopped in the doorway, freezing as much as Ianto had done.

“ _Doctor?_ ” Jack asked, shock written over his face, looking back and forth between them. 

“Jack!” The Doctor grimaced, trying to pass it off as a smile. He hopped down the remaining three steps, taking Jack’s hand. 

“What the hell are you doing with _Ianto?_ ”

“I happened across him by accident, thought I’d help him out with his investigation.” 

Ianto whipped his head around, mouth opening incredulously. He shut it quickly as Jack looked back at him. The Doctor gave him an apologetic glance, shrugging minutely.

Jack was fixing him with a perplexed expression, hand slipping behind his coat to put a hand on his hip. He straightened. “Doctor, do you mind if I talk to Ianto for a minute?”

“Jack, why don’t we--”

“It’ll only be a minute.”

The Doctor paused, mouth thin, before turning and taking a couple of steps down the street towards the pizza shop, fiddling with his screwdriver.

Jack whirled around to corner Ianto. “Why the hell didn’t you let me know about this?” Jack was hurt, which made him agitated. Ianto fidgeted.

“I dunno, I thought we could handle it. I--wanted to prove myself to you. You asked me to check it out, and I wanted to follow through.”

“So you thought it was a good idea to just carry on a mission without reporting to me?”

“What about you? You thought it was a good idea to stalk me?” Ianto shot back.

“Can you blame me? Last time you started acting weird, you--” Jack took a breath, rolling his head. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t going downhill again.”

Ianto paused, looking away. Jack had every right to be angry. He closed his fingers around the edge of Jack’s jacket, near the pocket, not making eye contact. “I really am sorry,” he said quietly, “You know I--care about you.” Jack’s eyes softened at this, though the frown was still apparent on his face. “He gave the impression he didn’t want me to tell you about the mission.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why not?” 

“Something about guns.” That wasn’t a lie, at least.

“Hm. Hasn’t stopped him from taking me places before,” he stared fixedly at the Doctor, who looked rather bored. Ianto noticed the shift in his expression; there was an emotion there that Ianto couldn’t place--it seemed like it had been there for a long time. He guessed that Jack was so comfortable with it that he didn’t even realize the idolizing light through which he viewed the Doctor. 

Ianto knew he’d never amount to that. He didn’t have a screwdriver or a time machine; all he had was a stopwatch and a pretty face. He couldn’t hold a candle against the air of mystery and excitement surrounding the Doctor.

Jack continued, not noticing the discontented frown growing on Ianto’s face. “Could’ve changed since I last saw him. Can’t say it doesn’t hurt, though.” He chuckled a bit. “I guess I have no choice but to follow you both around whether you want me there or not.”

“It’s not about what _I_ wan--” 

Jack put an arm around his back, steering them both around. “I _know_ , Ianto. Let’s go.”

They approached the Doctor, who faced them, squinting through a pair of 3D film glasses. He whipped them off, as though he’d forgotten he was wearing them.

“Planning on catching the next feature film?” Ianto asked jokingly.

“I was testing the--well--that’s not important right now. Jack,” he said, addressing him.

“I’m coming with you,” Jack interrupted, and although his tone was challenging, it still sounded like a request. Something about the way the Doctor’s jaw set gave Ianto the impression he heard that phrase often.

“Jack--”

“You obviously don’t have any young, lovestruck women following you around right now, do you? Is that why you’ve started recruiting _my_ team members? I mean, I can’t blame you--Ianto’s got an outstanding a--” 

“That’s not it.”

“Yeah, well, Ianto’s a _package_ deal,” he smirked at the insinuation, “You want him, I’m coming too.” 

Ianto watched the change take place on his face, realizing he had no other options. He wondered what this meant if Jack took the time manipulator as the Doctor so insisted he would.

The Doctor sighed, shoving a hand into his coat pocket. “Fine.” Jack grinned. “But you follow my orders.”

“Yes, sir.” Ianto did all he could to keep from laughing in shock. What a change on Jack, to see him go from constantly in command to calling someone else ‘ _sir!_ ’ 

The Doctor explained the situation; the more details he gave Jack, the more Jack glanced at Ianto disapprovingly. He knew what he was thinking: how could Ianto have kept from reporting such a serious situation to him? 

They formulated a plan to break in--it was a Sunday, which meant the shop was empty of innocent customers. The Doctor would bypass the security locks with the screwdriver, then Ianto and Jack would enter the iron door first (the Doctor ordered them not to shoot unless they were absolutely sure it was necessary).

They headed to the pizzeria, the Doctor leading; Ianto and Jack followed behind him, steps in unison. There was a new lock on the alleyway entrance, but its polished sheen meant nothing to the Doctor’s screwdriver. 

They followed him as he crept into the hall; Ianto’s heart marching wildly in his chest, his ears straining. Everything was silent. Even without immediate action, suspense crept relentlessly into the corners of his consciousness. He kept his gun cocked and his eyes trained on Jack’s broad shoulders, grappling for a sense of calm in Jack’s presence amongst the adrenaline coursing through his limbs.

The Doctor kept the screwdriver hovering an inch from the security panel, the sleek screen shifting from purple to orange. A noisy hiss filled the air, and a popping noise issued from the edges of the door as it drew back and slid into the wall.

He glanced back at them, and stepped back to let Jack lead down into the basement. Chills went across Ianto's spine as they descended briskly, not just from the cool atmosphere, but the uneasy feeling that crept over him and stayed. 

Jack burst through the opening at the end of the stairs, and a loud commotion informed Ianto of the danger before he could see over Jack’s head.

Jack moved to the side, gun trained on the scene before him, and Ianto immediately aimed in the same direction, heart jumping. In front of them was a wide basement with a long, shining platform placed directly in the center. Johanna and another woman, who was noticeably shorter and had her thin, blonde hair pulled into the same style, were standing near a set of controls. They screeched when the they saw the three men bust out, postures going rigid and hands flying to a set of small devices that Ianto guessed were weapons. They had them pointed towards Jack and Ianto before the Doctor even stepped through the door. The sounds they made were animalistic, and pitched higher and louder than their bodies seemed capable of. 

“Put your weapons down!” Jack snarled, eyes flashing. 

“If you just lower those,” the Doctor said, stepping forward with his hands raised, “we can talk about--”

A blast shot out before he could finish his sentence, a ray of light hitting him square in the chest. He toppled backwards and hit the floor. Jack let out an anguished yell, and fired at Johanna. The woman next to her shrieked as she slumped across the control panel, purple fluid leaking from her stomach. 

Ianto aimed, breathing in deeply and willing the shot to hit where he wanted. He squeezed the trigger, hand perfectly steady. The blonde woman screeched, the gun flying out of her hand from the force of Ianto’s bullet. 

There was a beat as she stared at them, heaving, one hand on the panels in front of her, the other on Johanna’s back.

“Tell us who you are!” Jack shouted. 

She seethed at them, fire in her eyes. Her fingers gripped the edge of the console. 

“What's your name?” Ianto demanded.

“Nellie,” she spat. Her voice was scratchy, inhuman. 

Jack took a step closer, gun pointed directly at her forehead. “You’re going to explain what’s been going on around here in the past four months, or you’re going to be in a hell of a lot more pain than your friend there. Why are you planting chips in people’s brains? What are you doing to them? What did you do with Lucy Bell?”

While he asked this, Ianto dropped to his knees, checking the Doctor’s pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief. His heart was working fine, two even beats in steady rhythm. _Their weapons must not be deadly, then,_ Ianto thought.

“We have been...draining their blood,” Nellie said, with difficulty. “The chips take over their brains every week, force them to come here. Then they forget.”

“Why? Why do you need human blood?” 

Nellie smiled, her mouth wide and grotesque, and Ianto felt like she was looking into him. He wanted to run. 

“There’s an extremely high demand for human blood in the market we’ve created. We’re making so much profit...you just taste so sweet.” 

“No,” Ianto whispered, panic setting in. 

“We transport these containers up to our sisters, waiting in their ships, to be sold as ingredients. They sell like mad.” 

The edge of her mouth quirked in a joyless, defeated smile, as she pressed a button on the console; a row of cabinets behind her opened up in the same fashion as the iron door had. Rows of canisters lined the shelves, bright red, gleaming in the fluorescent lights shining over them. Ianto felt himself start to hyperventilate. The canisters were closed, but he felt he could smell the blood inside of them. He heard the sound of a knife scraping against metal.

_We’re all just meat…_

His ears were ringing. He couldn’t focus. He sensed Jack move towards Nellie, but he stayed where he was, sinking to the floor, trying to get a hold on reality. This wasn’t the same, he told himself; it was just blood, those people were still alive. He gripped the Doctor’s arm, just to have something to hold on to.

“Ianto!” He heard a couple of minutes later, feeling arms come around him. He lifted his eyes from where he’d been staring at the grey concrete floor, eyes finding Jack’s face. 

“Jack,” he took a deep breath, steeling himself. “The Doctor is fine, I checked. His heart’s beating.” 

Jack gave him a funny look. “I guess he’s lucky one of them is working,” he said. 

“One of--”

“I tied her hands,” he threw his head in Nellie’s direction. “There’s a room that way where they’re keeping Ms. Bell. Apparently they held her here to test how much blood you can take out of a human without killing them. I’ve called Owen and Tosh; they’re on their way to clean everything out and take us back to the Hub.”

There was a gasp from beside them. The Doctor sat up, eyes wild. “Oh god, that hurts,” he said, hand on his chest.

“Are you going to be okay?” Jack asked. 

“I can survive, but--gah--it’s going to need an electric shock, I think,” he screwed his eyes shut.

“The SUV is on it’s way, we have a defibrillator in there--can you wait?”

“Yeah,” he gasped, “I’m fine!” He struggled to stand up, clearly not fine. Ianto stood with him, putting an arm under his shoulder for support. 

“What’s going on?” Ianto asked.

“He’s got two hearts. Lots of stamina.” Jack said.

Ianto opened his mouth, but the Doctor spoke first. “Did you find that Lucy girl?”

“Yes, she's in that room. They've got her hooked up to some alien-looking IV systems. She isn't conscious.”

Jack pressed a hand to his earpiece. “We're downstairs, that big door behind the counter. Can you bring the defibrillator?” He turned to Ianto and the Doctor. “They're parked outside. You should sit back down so he can get your heart started again.”

“I suppose you're right, yes.”

Ianto helped him to lie down. There was a sound upstairs, and Owen appeared in the doorway, Tosh following after. 

“Jack,” Owen said in acknowledgment, “What’d you need the defibrillator for?”

“Hello,” the Doctor said, raising a hand from his spot on the floor. He was breathing heavily. 

“Who's he? Are you having a heart attack?” Owen said urgently, dropping to his knees next to the Doctor and pulling the device out of its case. 

“I'm the Doctor,” he said. 

“Two hearts,” Ianto said informatively.

Owen started, looking back and forth between them. “Two? Bloody hell…” He was pulling his stethoscope out of his bag, placing it on the Doctor’s chest. 

“Alright, um...You’ll have to bear with me, I’ve never done this before. Obviously.” He unbuttoned the Doctor’s shirt, pulling it open to expose his chest. He pulled two strips from the device, placing them on his chest and side. “Now I’m gonna press on your chest and I need you to take deep breaths afterwards, okay?”

He positioned himself over the Doctor, putting his hands over his right heart and pumping into his chest. The Doctor breathed in and out, and Owen repeated the motion. He then sat back and pressed a button on the device. “Everyone stand back.” He addressed the Doctor, who was glancing down at the strips on his chest, “This is gonna hurt like hell.”

There was a beat, and the Doctor jerked, letting out a yell as electricity jolted through him. He gasped, clutching at the concrete, and pushed himself to sit up against the wall. His eyes were frantic, wild, and he put a hand on his chest. 

“Wonderful,” he said loudly, shaking his head back and forth. 

Owen tried to press the stethoscope back to his heart, but he waved him off. “I assure you, I feel _great_.”

“Owen, Tosh,” Jack said, authority setting into his tone now that his team was there, “There's a girl that needs medical attention in this room here,” he gestured to an opening in the back corner of the room, “we need to get her out of here and back to the Hub. She'll need serious retconning when she's well enough.”

Tosh nodded and headed off in that direction, Owen packing up his supplies and following. 

Jack offered a hand to the Doctor, helping him up. 

“We’re going to get this place cleared out. It’s all cleanup work from here. I don't suppose you'll want to stick around, now that the action’s done with,” he said with a grin. 

“Jack, listen,” The Doctor said, still a bit short of breath. He hesitated. “If you find a time manipulator in their equipment, they stole it from me.” His face was searching, muted hopefulness behind his serious countenance.

There was a flash in Jack’s eyes, only for a moment. Ianto stared at the Doctor. He was going to tell him, just like that? After all the secrecy? 

“Yeah,” Jack said, “Of course. I’ll let you know if we find anything.” Ianto studied his face, finding nothing in his expression to suggest otherwise, but he knew what a devastatingly good liar Jack could be when he wanted to.

The Doctor nodded. “I’ll check in later.” He gave Jack an analytical look, as though he was contemplating whether Jack would do the right thing. Ianto wondered what the Doctor would do to stop him if he didn’t. 

He turned to Ianto, clapping him on the shoulder and taking his hand. “Ianto Jones! I will miss you.” There was a bittersweet smile on his face, similar to the one he held when they first met. 

Ianto smiled, an odd feeling in his stomach. “I’m sure we’ll meet again, sir.” 

“Yes…” He said thoughtfully. “Well. I’ll be off then.” He drew back from them, waving as he disappeared upstairs. 

Ianto watched him go, wondering why the hell he’d looked at him as though he was seeing him for the last time.  
* * *

The next day, Ianto stepped into Jack’s office, mobile in hand. 

“Sir, the Doctor’s on the phone, asking whether we found the time manipulator yesterday.”

Jack shook his head. “Sorry, but everything’s been checked. They must have beamed it off-planet.” 

“Are you sure?”

Jack gave him a weird look. “Yeah, of course I am. It wasn’t there.”

Ianto regarded him for a few seconds. That was awfully defensive. “I’ll tell him, sir.”

If Jack was lying, he mused, it was a shame he didn't confide in Ianto. He hoped Jack knew that Ianto wouldn't betray him to the Doctor, if Jack only asked. He returned to his computer, not wanting to press the matter.


	4. Children of Earth

**September, 2009**  
_Day One_

Adrenaline. That's what was keeping him alive. Though, when he thought about it, Owen and Tosh were probably just as hyped up on adrenaline in their last moments, and what good had it been to them?

He couldn't do this again. Lose his whole team, lose everyone he worked with. This job was all he had left. It was home. Gwen, Jack…They were more family to him than Rhiannon. 

He was covered in dust, his hands shook. His eyes were burning, from more than smoke. Every alleyway he turned down felt closed in; he was paranoid they'd be waiting for him at the end of it. He didn’t even know who ‘they’ were. Who would be targeting Torchwood? It was impossible to say; they had too many enemies. 

The side of his face burned--right, he’d been cut when he hit the ground. He couldn’t stop thinking about Jack. What if his luck had finally run out, his body beyond repair, and they never saw him again? Ianto didn’t know what he’d do. Jack’s health was a constant in his life; he’d never had to worry about Jack dying--but now he was starting to panic as that surety was ripped away from him, like Jack had been ripped from his arms when the lift had carried him upwards, away from the explosion.

 _It’s alright, he’s going to be alright. He can survive anything._ But the tiny, mocking chance that he couldn’t was eating him up inside.

He stalked through the streets like a cornered animal, hiding his face, scanning for a phonebox. Mobile was too risky, he couldn’t leave a traceable signal (his phone was back at the hub anyway, in pieces and useless to him). He knew Gwen; if she’d gotten out alive, Rhys was the first she’d go to. He had to catch her while she was still home, or it would be days before he found a way to contact her. 

A streetlamp at the edge of a pub beckoned him over, the sharp rays of light illuminating a black box like a beacon. He quickened his pace, throwing the door open and shutting himself inside, eyes flying warily to the street corner to check for CCTV cameras. Clear.

He took a deep breath and dialed Gwen’s number, fingers slipping on the keys. He waited for the tone, prayed for her to pick up, tapping his finger on the edge of the handle. 

“ _Come on, come on, c’mon,_ ” he whispered under his breath.

“ _Hello!_ ” Rhys. 

“Rhys. I need Gwen.” He said quickly. 

Her voice filled his ear. He couldn’t allow himself to feel relieved, not yet. “Gwen, it’s Ianto.”

_Day Two_

Ianto went back to the hub as soon as the sun came up. He had to. He had to know if Jack made it, had to find the people who did this.

He found himself on a rooftop adjacent to the smoking crater of rubble, having walked all night. The place was swarming with rescue vehicles and unmarked black cars. Squinting in the hazy air, he watched men and women in neon vests traipsing through the wreckage, boots knocking lose pieces of the only place he’d felt anything for in months. They would bend down every so often, stooping with gloved hands to pick up… He leaned further, and his stomach dropped when he realized what they were collecting. 

Pieces of Jack, piled into a sleek body bag, bit by bit. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

A woman stood out amongst it all, barking orders and pointing, obviously in charge. He studied her features, searching for weak points. He was going to tear her apart for this.

They manhandled the body bag into a car, shutting the doors. Ianto fished in his pocket for a pen and scrawled its license plate onto his hand. He gave one last look at the retreating car, and pushed off from the edge of the building to formulate a plan for getting a message to his sister. 

* * *

It didn’t take much convincing to persuade the newsboy to take the letter to Rhiannon (this boy’s mother obviously never warned him not to talk to strange men in dirty clothes. Thankfully). He met with his sister without being followed, and left with her car and a laptop. 

Ianto swerved the car neatly into a parking space at a McDonald's, powering the car down and pulling the laptop from the passenger’s seat over. He perched it precariously on the dashboard behind the wheel, and booted it up, feeling silly. What a transition, to go from the black SUV with myriad screens and tech and blinking lights, to a cramped, nondescript beige four-seater. 

He accessed the wifi (only one bar, though he couldn't expect better, considering where he was), and worked his magic, inputting codes and hacking and implementing firewalls to keep from being tracked. He had Jack’s location in under 5 minutes. 

Once he’d discovered where they were keeping Jack, he headed there as quickly as possible, speeding down the highway. Preparing himself mentally for what he'd find, who he'd have to fight. He'd tear the whole building down until he found him. 

Hills and countryside whipped past, scenes that stirred both old memories--a noisy car, parents arguing while he tried to tune them out and focus on his book (which had words instead of pictures, a point he'd bragged to his mother about for days)--and more recent ones: blood and grass and musty basement, filling his nose, choking him, haunting his dreams and waking moments for weeks after. 

The road signs became familiar from the maps of the area, and he turned into a construction site near his destination, parking his car out of sight. He trekked through the grass until he came upon buildings in the distance. They were surrounded by armed guards, otherwise unmarked.

He positioned himself on the crest of a hill, lying in the wet grass and examining the buildings through a pair of binoculars he’d found in Rhiannon’s car. He paused when he spotted a huge cement truck, attached to an arm that extended into the sky. 

_Why would they need…_

A scream pierced the air, and his heart stopped. He knew exactly why. There was a dispensing tube being lowered into the roof of the building the truck was parked next to, and its circular body was running in slow circles. Even from here, he knew that scream. Jack. They were covering him in concrete, burying him alive, just as Gray had done when he was terrorizing Jack for his mistakes. 

Ianto had to get him out of there. 

 

_Day Three_

 

The ensuing hours they spent in hiding passed with blurred urgency, every action taken to survive, to keep going, for the sake of the world. They were wary of every sound outside, of every time the door to their hideout opened--never sure if it was one of them returning safely, or the enemy, trailed back by carelessness.

There was an odd sense of camaraderie that came with sitting around a dumpster fire in an empty warehouse. A waiting place.

He even felt a sense of it for Rhys, who he’d only ever known in association with Gwen. He’d worked with him before, but it was different now that they were all trapped here, anticipating and brainstorming and keeping watch. In this environment, where Rhys was included in the action and planning, he demonstrated a sense of blind bravery and loyalty to Gwen and the child she carried. Ianto recognized his aggressive behavior (ever the headache to Jack) as loyalty, and he that was something he understood. Respected.

\---

Ianto meant it, when he implied to Jack that he’d stay with Jack as he grew old.

It was one of the largest proclamations he’d ever made to anyone--sure, he hadn’t confessed his love yet, like he had to Lisa. But with Lisa, it’d been easy. His affection for her had been young, naive--easy to rush into when he was high on the idealism of Love. That wasn’t a problem in his surroundings lately, where romantics were stripped down to their intrinsic values in the face of crises. When one is put under pressure, thrown into life-or-death situations again and again, true motivations become clear. Ianto knew from these experiences that he loved Jack; it was his driving force in every challenge they’d faced in the past year. 

He had no idea where Jack stood on the matter of love, and it was impossible to admit a relationship to himself, let alone anyone else, without certainty. Saying ‘I love you’ would make it real for him, would put his soul out in the open, for Jack to do whatever he liked with it, and he was terrified of what that meant--of Jack’s reply. So he expressed it in other ways, telling him he wanted to make the most of their life together. That he’d grow old while Jack continued. That the world would forever be ending, and he would forever be by Jack’s side to prevent it.

_Day Four_

_“I turned them over. As a gift.”_

It broke his heart to hear Jack affirm Clement McDonald’s words.

Not just because what he’d done was terrible--Jack was a soldier. He knew that. He’d been following orders.

But Jack hadn’t confided in him. He saw it in Jack’s eyes, his rigid posture: this bothered him. Another weight anchoring the fabric of Jack’s heart, and he’d kept it to himself.

He sat in silence after Jack woke up, the sounds of Clement’s panic echoing throughout the warehouse. A part of him was angry at Jack to keep things from him, and it warred with the side of his heart that spoke in clipped, rational tones that Jack had his reasons, he always had his reasons. Some things were better left in the past, buried under blankets and old boxes and mothballs and dust.

He knew the source of his frustration. He trusted Jack more than Jack trusted him, or, at least, that’s how he saw it. It was a conformation of sorts, a reason not to reveal his true feelings of love and commitment and undying loyalty--not when Jack couldn’t trust him enough to lay out the past, everything he’d done, in front of Ianto, as Ianto had done for him. 

He pushed these feelings aside in favor of focus on the mission at hand, all the while knowing that Jack’s guilt was reawakening as the consequences of his actions rose up and threatened to engulf millions of innocent children. That helping to fix this was the only thing Ianto could do to combat that.

Jack’s true personality was far more complex and elusive than Ianto had remembered to consider. He wanted to believe in the Jack he knew, the Jack that would go to lengths to protect those children, the man whose voice broke at the mention of his daughter’s life in danger. However, he knew that man had grown and developed before Ianto was even born. Before that, well…That was a different person. Ianto resolved to know him too, and to love him despite his actions. He prayed he had years to do so.

* * *

It felt like any other mission. Speeding in a sleek car, Jack at his side, guns loaded, heart pounding in anticipation. ‘Us against them;’ they’d go in, dismantle the threat, and leave. Park the car and make celebratory love, glowing in the aftermath of their achievements. 

It started with a roadblock--in retrospect, the least of their problems that day. They advanced through the streets, purpose in their strides, weaving in and out of people as Ianto called his sister and warned her with precise instructions. He didn't consider the possibility that he'd never hear her voice again. 

Jack charged through security like he always did, the same authoritative air and confident walk--the one that had people moving out of their way when they saw the look on his face. He marched straight into the room the aliens hid themselves in, making quite the entrance, the kind that made Ianto forget that he’d ever been afraid of anything in his life, including death.

Maybe that was his problem. Jack’s demeanor encouraged him to speak out to the monsters, threaten them, with no regard for his own wellbeing as long as they were stopped. Like Icarus, he drank up all of Jack’s courage and allowed it to fuel his downfall.


	5. Time

He set his phone on the console, so lightly it hardly made a sound, and stood musing over Ianto’s reply in the pulsing, gentle lights of the TARDIS.

The glowing center illuminated the troubled lines of his face. So. That’s how it had to be.

He ran a hand along the paneling, the green glass, soothing himself with the familiarity of her sleek surface and rows of buttons and levers, the functions of which many were unknown to him. He preferred it that way.

Absentmindedly, he set the coordinates, fingers moving of their own accord. The lever was pushed into place with no protest, and he leaned into the turns and bumps as she brought him safely down.

He took his time getting to the door; slipping his coat on, one arm at a time, pocketing his screwdriver. 

“I really didn’t want to do this the hard way,” the Doctor said, more to her than to himself, an attempt to justify his actions, ease the weight of what he had to do. With a hand on the door, he glanced back once again, bracing himself.

“But he’s left me no choice.”

He pushed, leaving her blinking and humming regretfully behind him.

* * *

A soft gasp, an inhale of realization. The gentlest he’d ever woken to. 

He wanted to stay dead, just this once. Follow Ianto beyond death and face the darkness by his side. He couldn’t stand to continue on alone in this life.

Immortality was a curse. Life had proved this to him again and again, and Ianto was the bitter conclusion to every lesson he'd learned and ignored. He saw it for what it was now, hated himself for growing so attached. 

He'd done this. Led Ianto straight to his death. And now he was paying for his arrogance.  
There was a shred of hope left in him, as Gwen pulled back the covering on his face. That Ianto would open his eyes, blink sluggishly in the way he always did when Jack watched him wake up after spending the night beside him; he’d help pick him up, take him home.

That flame was extinguished by the tear running down her face; it broke his resolve, and he found his eyes mirroring hers. They held onto each other, unable to handle the pain of watching another friend slip from their grasps. 

Staring down at Ianto’s face now, he regretted never telling him how much he loved him.

If only he could go back, undo his actions. Rewrite Ianto's name into the scrubbed out mark he’d left on the world. 

It hit him as he reached a hand out to grip Ianto’s arm through the bag; his sleeve hitched up, and for half a second his eyes were drawn to his broken vortex manipulator--or rather, the absence of it. 

He stood so suddenly Gwen jumped. He lay a hand on her head, turned, and ran out of the room.

“Where are you going?” She called--but Jack was already out the door.

* * *

Dirt covered his hands, his jacket, his trousers. Smudges of it were rubbed into his face, where he’d wiped the sweat from his brow.

He ignored the house, absent of Alice and Steven. He ignored the garden, and the dirt littering it. He just kept digging, driven by a need to keep going, to fix this.

The shovel he’d borrowed from Alice’s shed, just as he’d borrowed it the night of the mission at the pizzeria, hit an intangible force and bounced back, hard, nearly knocking him over. The shielding around the safe was still intact. He’d had a feeling this device would be of use to him when he’d nicked it off that alien cargo ship years ago.

He burrowed his hands deep into the earth around it and pulled it loose, the safe coming with it, frozen in the center of the bubble-like field. He set it neatly on the grass.

“Voice activation: Jack Harkness. J-3-8-9-1-8-9-1.”

There was a flash of light, and the field deactivated. He punched more numbers into the lock on the safe, and it popped open with a hiss. There it sat: his chance for atonement. He kneeled in the grass, strapping it onto his wrist, setting the coordinates with shaking fingers.

An intense, distinctive whirring filled the air, and he paused, head snapping up. A gust of wind rushed through the garden. He slowly rose to his feet.

The wind dying down. The creak of a door hinge. A click. Silence.

He didn’t speak, he just stared bitterly at the ground, not trusting his words.

“Jack.” Softly. 

He whirled around, staring straight into the eyes of the Doctor.

“Where were you,” he ground out. Calm. Vindictive. 

The Doctor answered with a long, sad look. 

Jack took three strides, slamming him against the doors, a hand planted in the middle of his chest. The Doctor made no move to escape.

“You could have prevented this!” He yelled, voice breaking, body quaking with the force of his anger, his reprehension. 

The Doctor laid a gentle hand on his wrist. “No,” he said quietly, “I couldn’t have.”

A laugh bubbled from his chest, mangled and sarcastic. “You can fix anything! I’ve,” his voice faltered, “seen you work fucking _miracles._ And you tell me…” 

His hand slipped hopelessly from the Doctor’s chest. In his mind he knew that the Doctor was telling the truth, but he’d be damned if he was going to let himself accept it. His eyes were burning, and he realized his cheeks were wet once again.

“Ianto Jones is a fixed point. He was important, Jack, so very important.” His eyes glistened. “That’s what drew you to him--”

“Stop,” Jack snarled, “Don’t you dare.” He shook his head disbelievingly. 

“All of this,” the Doctor said, gesturing around them, “The children--Ianto--are fixed points. I want to help, Jack, you _know_ that. But I can’t. It’s all fixed.” His tone matched that of every dismantling, consoling speech Jack had ever seen him make, and it infuriated him.

He pointed at Jack’s wrist, his other hand half-raised in surrender. “If you use that, the universe will find a way to kill him anyway, and the rest of the world will be swallowed up with him.”

Jack took a couple of steps back, grinning, dangerous, apathetic. “Do I look like I give a shit?” He slammed the button on his wrist, vanishing.

* * *

Jack watched himself leave the warehouse and walk out of range to make the call to Frobisher. 

He waited until he was out of sight before rushing towards the warehouse, and bursting in through the doors. 

Ianto, standing at his desk, poised to sit down, straightened in surprise. Jack could have cried at the sight of his face, his priceless confusion.

His working lungs. 

“Jack, I thought you--”

“Something's come up,” Jack said, reaching his side, placing hands on his biceps, checking him over. “I need you to come with me.” 

“Are you alright?” Ianto looked extremely concerned. 

“Yes--everything's fine.” Ianto was okay. 

Ianto gave a firm nod, moving to grab his gun, load it, and holster it. “Where are we going?”

“I'll explain later.” He didn't have a clear plan yet, he just had to get Ianto out. Away from here. He'd use the manipulator; take him off-planet, then come back and save this one. 

He grabbed Ianto's hand, pulling him into a brisk walk towards the exit. Ianto gave him a funny look, but stayed silent, changing his pace to keep up. 

They left the building and Jack turned a corner, heading in the opposite direction of where he'd seen his past self leave. He kept glancing at Ianto, whose frown deepened the longer they walked. 

When they’d gotten halfway down the street, Ianto spoke. “Jack… Can't you tell me where we’re going? I’d like to be prepared.”

He couldn’t meet his eyes. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always. Of course.” 

They passed a ladder, ignoring the man who was perched at the top of it, straining to reach the tip of the window he was painting. The ground was littered with paint cans and construction equipment, which Ianto sidestepped to keep in sync with Jack. There was a crash, and Jack looked behind him to see a paint can spilling into the road, dented and bent at the middle. Right where Ianto had been a moment before.

“Wow,” Ianto said, huffing a laugh, “That was close, wasn’t it?”

Jack quickened his pace, scanning for a safe place to transport them, somewhere out of sight. He spotted an alleyway across the street, and he slowed, putting a hand on Ianto’s back and gesturing to the road. “Let’s cross here.”

Ianto nodded, stepping out into the street. They were halfway across, when a cab came speeding out of nowhere. 

Time slowed for Jack.

“Ianto!”

A blur of black and white.

His hands on the soft material of Ianto’s waistcoat, shoving into his back.

His feet tripping out from under him.

A thud. Pain.

Everything going dark.

\---

_Gasp._

Jack’s eyes flew open and he found himself on a bench, outside of a bookshop, head cradled in Ianto’s lap for the second time that day. He blinked several times, gripping his arm. 

“It’s always harrowing seeing him do that.” The Doctor’s voice. He was standing next to them both, looking down at Jack with a sad smile. Jack sat up, sliding an arm protectively around Ianto’s shoulders. He attempted to be subtle, but knew that the Doctor saw through it.

“The Doctor told me he’s got it--that I should go back to the hub and keep helping Gwen,” Ianto said, eyebrows raised questioningly, referencing whatever objective the Doctor had made up to get Ianto back where he belonged. He wanted Jack’s approval first. Jack’s heart ached. He looked back at the Doctor. To the spot in the road beyond him, to his blood in the street.

“It will keep trying until it succeeds,” the Doctor said softly. Firmly. “No matter where you run to.”

He was right. Jack felt the mad energy that had gripped him starting to loosen, hope slipping away with it. It didn't matter how many times he went back, Ianto would keep dying and he would be forced to watch each time, knowing it was his fault. It was impossible to protect him forever. He took an uneven breath and stood, offering a hand to Ianto with a fake smile plastered onto his face. “He's probably right. You should keep an eye on them,” Jack said. “What with that baby and all. I'll let you know how it goes when I see you again.” 

“Sounds good.” Ianto's smile was always so genuine. Jack loved the way his eyes scrunched up at the corners. 

Jack loved him. 

Ianto moved to leave, and Jack caught his arm. “Oh, and Ianto?” 

“Sir?”

“I,” His voice caught in his throat. Even now, seeing him for the last time, he couldn't say it. It would make it impossible to let him go.

His hands cupped Ianto’s face, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He pulled back quickly, before he changed his mind, got lost in the feeling of Ianto’s face against his, warm and comforting. 

“Stay safe,” he said softly, fixing a cocky grin on his face and trying not to choke on the irony of his words. 

Ianto smirked, confused and pleased. “Of course. See you, Jack. Doctor.”

Turning from them at last, he headed off down the pavement, hand in his pocket. Jack watched him go, wiping the tears from his eyes as they came, refusing to let them cascade down his cheeks. 

“Are you happy now,” he said, voice monotone.

The Doctor moved forward, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder. “I'm so, so sorry, Jack, I really am.” He said nothing else. There was nothing else to say. 

Jack let himself be comforted for only a moment. Then he set his jaw, face going blank. Cold. He didn't think he could stand to be around the Doctor for another second. Shaking the hand off of his shoulder, he broke away.

Those monsters would pay for what they’d done to Ianto Jones. He knew he would pay as well for bringing him into it; the weight of his death hanging over him for the rest of his lonely, eternal life. He wished he’d ignored the Doctor, fought harder to keep Ianto alive in spite of the consequences, but he’d also lived long enough to know that it was his duty to put the rest of the world before his own happiness.

Fastening the buttons on his coat--one at a time, then the belt--he stalked off to go finish this war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter honestly pained me so much to write, and I almost regret not making this story a fix-it, but when it all comes down to it I love angst and making people suffer with me.
> 
> I stuck to the original ending to show how the Doctor fit into that specific narrative, not the narrative of a happy ending, since I kept the story of their mission together in more of a Torchwood format. I wanted to explain why the Doctor never showed up to help them, considering that the Doctor usually turns up when Earth is threatened on such a large scale!
> 
> The entire story was inspired by my desire to know how Jack felt towards the Doctor when he saw him again; I'm glad he forgave him, eventually. 
> 
> If you stuck around to finish the story, thank you so much! 
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr: @agentianto.tumblr.com
> 
> My Ianto Jones playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/drawacirclethatstheearth/playlist/4K2l22DH5H7UCypilTX66S?si=WG3bbN1JSdW51OpiaNFcYw
> 
> My Jack Harkness playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/drawacirclethatstheearth/playlist/3m7sZSyqTHhWx65kmSYvYl?si=rymW-LEpS5WYQzkClRbZhA


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